


listen before i go, i love you, good bye

by ynggdjustin



Category: Persona 3, Persona Series, persona - Fandom
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Akihiko Sanada Point of View, Akihiko kinda all over the place, Bedroom Sex, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Dark Hour (Persona 3), Edgy Minato Arisato, Erotica, Faggotry, Fantasy, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Awkwardness, Gay Panic, Light Angst, M/M, Minato Doormat, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Soft Boys Doing Their Best, Soft sex, Top Akihiko Sanada|Bottom Minato Arisato, soft, third person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-27 23:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20054344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ynggdjustin/pseuds/ynggdjustin
Summary: Akihiko Sanada, a feisty boxer and high school student, is also a part time SEES member. Along with his band of dorm-mates, they save the world from Shadows, a bizarre type of race who feeds on humans' psyche. Amid distraught, peril, and an incoming darkness threatening to swallow them all... he's been feeling some type of way with the new kid, Minato Arisato.





	1. Speedos

**Author's Note:**

> all these characters are from Atlus!
> 
> A note on Akihiko's Iwatodai:  
the timeline might raise eyebrows. Events where Minato, the doormat main character in canon, picks his sports club, meets his social link peers, and etc. will work their own way in the convenience of Akihiko's romance. they're not such a big deal in the story! this is just aki and mina in their most sensual journey.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihiko works out, sees someone in their hallway. cue homosexual chaos

Akihiko Sanada leaned against the white walls of his dainty dorm room, panting, scraping for breath. Sweat beads formed at his forehead and trickled down his face. He wiped his itchy chin and let himself sit, sliding against wood. His eyes fell on the dull brightness of his lamp that barely covered a quarter of his room.

His body ached—but it wasn’t the good kind—like the type he felt after a good exercise. He just finished one now, but his torso pierced, as if a sword had struck itself between his ribs. Just a few more weeks before I can get back into Tartarus, he thought. Just a few more. The accident with the shadow still left its imprint. It’s been three weeks since then.

He stood when he felt his throat constrict. He peered the door open, letting the light from hallway seep into his room. He clicked the lamp off before he stepped out, catching a glimpse of Minato in the second floor lounge.

Akihiko felt himself freeze, but he gave him a nonchalant wave of his hand. He wore a white shirt that had darkened from his sweat and a pair of shorts that always earned him a scold from Mitsuru whenever he wore it around the halls. It reached above his calf, _way _above, revealing more pearly white skin and thin strand of hair. “I’m supposed to feel at home at the dormitory, Mitsuru.” He called her out the first time she saw him in them.

“There are women in this dorm,” Mitsuru bit back fiercely. “Be modest. Wear something appropriate.”

“I’m not going to wear a suit and tie every time we eat dinner.”

“I’m not asking you to. We’d all just appreciate if you put on a bit more... _fabric._”

Akihiko liked his shorts. The dips he did in his room felt much more comfortable, and sprinting outside wearing them felt liberating. He never listened.

Now he kinda wished he did.

Minato gave him a brief nod before he looked at the vending machine again, pushing buttons with his dainty fingers. Akihiko sized him up nicely; he had done it the first time he saw Minato, but that was weeks ago, in the brimming days of April. Now he put a little more attention to detail.

Minato’s untidy blue hair reached his eyes. They were unkempt and dark like a blank slate of the night sky. His eyes shared the same haunting palette—huge, like bowls of saltwater. He always wore his Gekkoukan uniform, and Akihiko barely saw Minato at the dorm during the night, but today he just had an orange shirt on. Collar bones pierce through his shirt, hard bony shoulders leaping out of the fabric. Akihiko watched as Minato raised an arm up, smoothly inserting money into the machine. Minato didn’t have the muscles Akihiko had—at least not yet. According to Yukari, Minato recently joined the Kendo club. He’s bound to build some mass there. But veins ran across his skinny wrists, up to his forearms, and his fingers looked dainty and fragile, as if they were made from porcelain.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He said then, and Akihiko broke out of his reverie. Minato’s fingers were pale skin again, and his saltwater eyes were just eyes, looking down on the dispenser. “I feel like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

“I was just waiting for you to finish with the vending machine.” Akihiko said briskly. He felt his skin turn red.

“There’s another one upstairs.”

“I don’t think the girls are going to entertain me up there when I’m wearing this.”

Minato didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at him, not once. He pulled out an unsweetened can of green tea and popped it open, eyes intent on the tearing of tin. He sat at the cushions and sipped.

Akihiko approached the vending machine, rather reproachfully. His hands shook. The sweat that coated his body felt like sheets of ice. Did he really look at him that way, he thought. He wanted to apologize, the words were there, dancing on the white brims of his teeth, but he doubted. If he _didn’t _apologize, then maybe Minato would forget about it. Why was Minato always so blunt? Akihiko stood in front of the vending machine then, looking at the drinks—rather, he tried to. He wished the glass pane could be more opaque, which would be dumb, then it wouldn’t be glass, but he saw his stumped face in the reflection, the outline of Minato’s back. Minato and his raised arm. Minato and his head held up, drinking large portions of tea, gulping them down audibly. He couldn’t see Minato’s throat, but Akihiko could feel them bob. He could see it in every gulp. He could see his blue eyes closed, his thin mouth wrapped savagely around the sharp corners of the tin, as if he never had a drink in his life—

“Senpai.” Minato said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “With those Speedos on, do you have any money for the vending machine?”

Akihiko felt the blood drain from his face. “I—they’re not—Speedos—“ That got him frantically patting on the sides of his legs, feeling for any sort outline of cash. Coins. He didn’t. The shorts didn’t even have pockets.

“Here.” Akihiko turned. Minato had pulled out money for him; it was folded and crisp, ripe between Minato’s fingers. He took it with hands that shook with a frenzy.

“Thanks.” Akihiko said, relieved. “I forgot my wallet inside the room. I can pay you—“

“It’s ok.” Minato said softly, without even sparing him a look.

Akihiko bought a can of sparkling water. He leaned against the vending machine again, popping it open with a sharp crack and a hollow fizz. Minato sat in a groggy, crouching manner, kind of like Junpei. A tail of blue hair stayed on the nape of his neck. Akihiko couldn’t help but feel like something felt missing...

“Arisato-san,” Akihiko said, proud of the equilibrium in his voice. He didn’t think it’d return, after how Minato intimidated him. “Where are your headphones?”

“My music player died.” Minato said in his monochromatic voice. Akihiko liked that about him. “Why?”

“You look weird without it.” Akihiko replied, shrugging to himself. “You wear it all the time...”

Minato didn’t reply, just sipped his tea in silence. Or maybe that was his reply, in his eerie Minato-like quietness. Akihiko didn’t mind it. He just watched him, his cold drink piercing the fingers wrapped around it. The hallway burned like a still candlelight, a fire Akihiko didn’t want to douse.

Minato stood and tossed his empty tin can inside the nearest bin, where it piled up with empty takoyaki-scented Styrofoam and plastic bottles of coconut water. “Sleep well, senpai. Spend the extra hour sleeping.”

Akihiko closed his eyes. He traced the sound of Minato’s footsteps as he walked towards the end of the hall. It was Minato, so his feet barely made any sound at all, but for whatever reason, Akihiko’s free hand turned into a fist, the other tightened its grip around the beverage in an attempt to brighten his hearing. He cherished every creak Minato made, and when he didn’t hear any, he tapped his foot against the wooden floor, imagining it was his. It didn’t sound the same.

He opened his eyes and exhaled. The adrenaline he felt from exercise escaped like a repented ghost. He tossed his can, still full, into the bin. He hated sparkling water.

*****

Akihiko was still awake on the dark hour.

_Spend the extra hour sleeping, _Minato told him before he went back into his room. He’d been shifting in his bed since 23:00. He turned the air conditioning off, felt his legs sweat underneath the blanket, turned it on again, felt his spine numb as if it were teetering on frostbite, then turned it off again. He just turned it on and lowered it before 24:00, the sheets of his bed only covering his bare thighs.

Time stops.

Akihiko stared at the ceiling. The color of his lamp had shifted from a sulking weak shaft of dull white to an odd hue of green. The darkness in his room dissolved into a pitch black. Silence loomed over him in deafening strokes.

_Everything turns weird during the dark hour. _Yukari said once, in a SEES meeting at the fourth floor. _Like... the world... it turns into an indescribable color._

_It’s the color of death. _Ikutsuki replied. Akihiko once thought his choice of words were just in his arsenal of poor poetry and petty puns. Days had passed since then. He wondered if Ikutsuki was just being blunt.

He closed his eyes, but sleep won’t come. At least I won’t see the green, he thought dimly. Imagining the dark hour was just a dark shade of blue, he put a hand beneath his pants and shuddered against his bed.


	2. Takoyaki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihiko eats takoyaki, goes to Tartarus after healing from his injury. A lot of gay stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a little longer. leave kudos and comments if u want,,, enjoy!!

“What do you think about Arisato?” Mitsuru asked from across Akihiko. She sat with her legs crossed, a textbook sprawled open on the kitchen table. Akihiko never saw Mitsuru dog-ear her pages—in fact, he never saw any creases on anything she touched. Not a single strand out of place, from the velvet locks of her hair to her tidy Gekkoukan summer uniform.

“What?” Akihiko said, a little too loudly. He was just starting to sit, a plastic bag in his hands. He pulled out the Styrofoam from it and set it in front of him.

“Just... what do you think of him?” Mitsuru repeated, “and... why does it smell so rancid?”

“It’s takoyaki, Mitsuru.” Akihiko said sternly. “What do I think of him as a leader?”

“Sure. Let’s start with that.” Her nose prickled, her face squished as if to ward off a foul scent. Akihiko grinned, despite himself, and plucked out a pair of chopsticks from his plastic bag. Eight balls of takoyaki, exquisitely covered in mayonnaise and seasoning, sat elegantly in front of him. One of these days, I’m going to bring Mitsuru out to try these, he told himself. Mitsuru never fancied any sort of fast food or street food. It was a personal vendetta of Akihiko to take her out to Iwatodai Strip Mall, at least once, before graduation.

“I-I don’t know anything about his leadership.” Akihiko stammered. A piece of takoyaki squished between his chopsticks. “I haven’t seen him out in a fight before. I mean, in a _dark hour_ kind of fight.” Minato’s skinny figure wouldn’t last in a real fight, he knew. A fight between Akihiko and him would be a sweep.

The small thought of it made him queasy. Minato, with a purple sky across his cheek and a torn up lip... He shuddered. He would never hurt Minato. What did he even do? _Why did I even think about it?_

“Based on his prowess, then.” Mitsuru rested her elbows against the kitchen table, shoving her book a few inches away, and clasped her hands together, her chin resting on top of the back of her thumbs. “The monorail incident... I don’t think it would have ended that easily if he wasn’t there.”

“Looks like you don’t my opinion on him. You’ve clearly made up your own.”

Mitsuru smiled. “I just wanted to know what _you _feel about it. I want him to lead the Tartarus expeditions from that day forward.”

“He was already leading the expeditions before the monorail incident.”

“I meant permanently.”

Akihiko swallowed a scalding takoyaki prematurely. He grasped for his neck, one hand pacing around the table for water. When he realized there wasn’t any nearby, he just pushed the food forcefully down his throat. “Oh.”

The monorail incident two nights ago, when Minato, Yukari, and Junpei hopped in an activated train in Iwatodai seemed to have changed the atmosphere in the dorm. Ikutsuki treated Minato then with high regards, and, Mitsuru hasn’t confirmed it yet, but she kept secret smiles to herself every time he passed. Akihiko noticed; he always noticed.

“The shadow was stronger than anything we saw before.” Mitsuru backed herself up.

“And Arisato swept it like it was nothing. I heard. I was in the configuration room with you.” He could hear Yukari and Junpei from there, through their comm. Yukari’s sneers and her sharp shouts, Junpei and his stammering baritone and breaths. Minato’s footsteps, whose sounds vibrated against the steel, despite his light-footedness. Akihiko’s ears burned at the sound of it as if it were a song the seraphim conducted. The loud _tap tap _of his shoes against the floor of the train... “He’s strong. His stamina must be well taken care of, if he has full control over his persona like that.”

“Personas.” Mitsuru corrected. “He has more than Orpheus, you know.”

“I know. You’ve told me. A hundred times.” Akihiko has never seen Minato awaken his persona (personas?) in action. He was about to, though—the doctor said his wound from when two shadows chased him to Iwatodai was completely healed, that Akihiko should just take better care from then on.

“He’s definitely skilled in battle. Takeba doesn’t stop talking about him. Iori... he won’t admit it, but I think he’s in the same light.”

“Imagine Iori as the leader.” Akihiko smirked at the thought. Junpei seemed strong to him. He brought a two-hand sword to Tartarus, going in and out of the portal casually, as if it were just another day in school. Hell, Junpei probably liked Tartarus more than high school. He just didn’t seem the _leader type._ “Anyway, sooner or later, I’m going to find out. My injury’s gone.”

“I hope having a newcomer _and _a junior leading you into Tartarus doesn’t damage your hubris.” Mitsuru pulled her arms out from the table and flipped the page of her book. Her eyes scanned the pages. “I’ll be looking forward to you working with him.”

“It won’t.” Hell, Akihiko thought, does it matter who leads the SEES? Minato might be what Mitsuru said he would be, then. A shadow killing machine. But without Mitsuru, he and the other two would be lost in the tower, fumbling in the fog of war. If Minato wasn’t with them now...

He thought about it, shoving takoyaki down his throat. _What if Minato wasn’t with us?_ Would he and Mitsuru still be struggling to navigate Tartarus? Yukari Takeba seemed an exceptional addition, her persona gifted with the ability to heal wounds and manipulate the wind, but how far would they have trailed? Would they have stopped the monorail from crashing, killing the civilians in it?

Akihiko didn’t mind if a rookie led them further up their investigation. To be honest with himself, they’ve made more progress than ever. He would be in the thick of battle again, that would help them even more. Plus, he thought dimly, I can finally see all the hype surrounding Minato. _Spend the extra hour sleeping, _Akihiko recalled him say nights ago. He shuddered, remembering what he _did _do in the dark hour, gasping, fumbling around in his sheets. The thoughts that possessed him like a banshee, the frantic movement of his hips...

“Are you okay, Akihiko? You’re pale.” Mitsuru said with a smirk.

“D-definitely.” He stammered, pumping on his chest with the flat of his free hand. He felt the food in his throat explode and thrash around like wild shrapnel. “This takoyaki is just so good.”

*****

Minato Arisato led Yukari Takeba, Junpei Iori, and, now fully healed, Akihiko Sanada into the titan tower of Tartarus.

From the outside, the tower loomed its brilliance; covering a quarter of the waning moon, it towered on houses and streets, its shadow covering the mundane boulevards of Iwatodai. Forever shifting and changing, like a manic shape shifter, a product of a mad architect. The shadow it made changes along with it; a constant, changing clockwork. It only emerged in the dark hour, like some dirty little secret. For what it's worth, it was Akihiko's.

“Can you all hear me?” Mitsuru spoke into their comm. Akihiko breathed in the foul scent of the tower—it had the putrid whiff of decaying flesh and corrupted bones, the tangy, iron-like smell of blood, of rotting flowers. He missed the smell. He missed the feeling of his gloved fists against a shadow’s skin. The sound of an evoker’s _bang _and the whispers of shattering glass that followed. _Polydeuces_, he would call on, and the field would be black burns and wisps. His heartbeat pulsed frantically in his excitement.

“Feels a little weird being here with you, Mitsuru.” Akihiko said, doing a little jog in place, shaking his hands like a broadway performer about to break in dance. “Guess it’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“I can hear you warming up, Akihiko.” Mitsuru said in her comm. Akihiko could hear a faint smile. “Go easy on yourself.”

The floor they stood upon looked alien to Akihiko, even in Tartarus’ standards. The walls were a shimmering purple, the floors violet, lined with black. It’s not what he, Mitsuru, and

_Shinji_

were used to navigate, where the halls glimmered a bright, unsettling green. Minato walked nonchalantly across the floor they were on, a sword in hand, his left ear covered in his red headset, the other piece dangling across his shoulder. “Kirijo-senpai. What can you tell me about the shadows here?” He said in his flat baritone. Akihiko watched him. “The surrounding’s different than Thebel. Are they stronger?”

“My persona can’t say for certain.” Mitsuru said. “Do you mind scouting the area first?”

“I don’t have much of a choice.” Minato grimaced, his free hand pulling on his evoker. Akihiko had never seen anyone younger than him talk back to Mitsuru. He grinned.

The four of them ran across the halls like a summoned peasant in thick castle walls. Yukari Takeba had two of her hands on a bow—one on the shaft, one on the bowstring, an arrow ledged, ready for flight—and Junpei Iori wield his sword in two of his clamped hands, his hat worn backwards, as if to intimidate the shadows that would appear.

They ran, climbed, and fought—fought like berserkers out for blood, like raiders pillaging a burning village. Junpei waved his sword in the air as if it weighted air, Yukari’s fingers moved like a pianist’s; shooting, reloading, shooting. Akihiko moved through the floors like a bear, his torso bent and feet ready to pounce on instinct. He had both of his fists in front of him, well gloved, his evoker hanging by his belt. His mind buzzed, his body singing to his companion’s war songs. This is where I’m meant to be, he thought brightly, all those weeks stuck inside the room, training, training, training. He knocked out a shadow—an ugly blob of ebony, with a purple opera mask and two gooey hands—in one blow, saw its facade skim across the floor, dropping hints of black everywhere. The shadow disintegrated like ash.

“Akihiko-senpai!” Yukari cried out in a sharp voice. “That was great!”

“I can’t believe you took it out in one hit.” Junpei said, looking at where the shadow’s mask started to melt in a pool of purple. His eyes were wide, eyebrows raised.

“Looks like the SEES are finally seeing you in your true nature.” Mitsuru said with a chuckle, as if she were there with them corporeally.

“I’m just getting started,” Akihiko said with a big inhale. Tartarus smelled so bad, but it was so _sweet. _This bloodlust he felt, electrifying his veins... and he hasn’t used his persona yet.

Two dark knights raced towards him, their lances pointing at him, clean like diamonds. Their horses—er, mounts, Akihiko thought—had no legs, but they floated towards them swiftly like koi.

Akihiko pounced on the first one, his left hand already balled into a fist of fury, and punched. His fist met with hard metal, steel that cracked like an icy sheet on a lake during spring, ripples reaching up to the shadow’s headless helmet, nestled nicely on top of more black armor. Akihiko’s fist burned like shit, but the first knight exploded in dull steel. He landed on his feet, his body bent, right hand flat against the floor to keep him from collapsing. He breathed in and out, a grin escaping him.

He didn’t hear Yukari or Junpei shout—they must have, but the second knight raised its lance in defiance and charged. Akihiko tumbled away.

He stood, moving the fingers of his left hand. Even he felt shock—not even the strongest man alive could punch armor until it disintegrated. Shadows were made from a different temper, a weaker, corporeal one, but they were just as deadly as a sharp, though brittle, sword.

“Come at me.” Akihiko taunted, a wide smile on his face. Yukari and Junpei must have been fighting their own battles, because following their silence, the sharp ring of steel and the whistling sound of an arrow flying sang in his ears. Akihiko felt like Akihiko again. He bathed in the feeling of bloodlust, of combat, of battle. He would kill this one and another until he would grow bored, craving something larger, _stronger. _

But the knight had already caught itself aflame—the head of its mount went up in an outburst of fire. It neighed, a sound that struck Akihiko as an unholy song, and the rider put both of its gauntlets around its dark neck. The shadow horse screamed and performed an odd, legless—hooves-less, Akihiko supposed—dance. The the knight’s arms caught on, fire dancing across black sheets of steel, up to its shoulder pads, its visor...

It melted into shadows. Akihiko turned, looking at a still Minato, the point of his evoker glued to his temple. Minato’s eyes looked blank, his posture rigid. _That’s what he always looks like._ Orpheus hung its head back behind him, an ethereal figure with steel limbs and bronze eyes, pale hair the same cut as its user. Trails of embers still danced around Minato’s persona, like fireflies.

It wasn’t until Orpheus faded away that Akihiko remembered to breathe. Did Polydeuces ever looked that graceful? Akihiko’s persona could call forth lightning; that looked cool, just not as pretty as the wisps Orpheus had. Minato’s lithe arm fell from his forehead. Akihiko tried to look away. He couldn’t. Makoto didn’t look at him—in truth, he was barely looking at anything as he let his evoker hang on his belt. His face looked ghostly in Tartarus’ light, like an ivory statue stricken by moonlight. Like an angel of death.

He felt the sharp tail of the snake before he heard its swing—he fell backwards, his elbow hitting the purple floor, a sharp jab of pain spreading from his forearms and up. His ass got the worst of it, landing on his tailbone. The left side of his face burned. He screamed, maybe he didn’t, Akihiko couldn’t tell. His vision blurred as he tried to look at what hit him. A red serpent, maybe twice as big as him (thrice?), its jaws hung open at him, screeching. He fumbled for his evoker, eyeing the tail that had hit him, and placed its hole against the center of his forehead. _Polydeuces. _He pulled the trigger.

Polydeuces bursts out in a flash of white, its long golden hair flowing back. It raised one of its arm, where a sharp needle tipped in red replaced its hand. Lightning shot out of it; large, white bursts that could have blinded Akihiko, had he not closed his eyes. He opened them—Polydeuces had gone, but the serpent still loomed over him. Thunder couldn’t harm it.

But wind did: the snake flew in a burst of cold gusts of air. It screeched its horrible screech loudly as it went, its body hitting poles that jutted out from the purple floors.

“Senpai.” Minato called. He had a different persona now—a pink bird, its chest covered in a crown of feathers. It dissolved instantly, but wind still struck Minato, his uniform and hair bellowing. From where Akihiko was, he saw a sliver of Minato’s stomach as the tempest blew his clothes. _Shit, _he thought, and forced himself to look away. “Let me help you.”

Akihiko took Minato’s hand as he was hoisted up. “Thanks.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t the place to daydream, senpai.” Minato said, his voice empty. “If you still feel off, I understand. You’ve just left the hospital—“

“No.” Akihiko said sternly. “I was—you’re right. I was off my game.” I just haven’t seen you use a persona before, Akihiko wanted to say. I’ve never seen anyone use it so... prettily. He thought of Minato’s bare skin and winced, indulging at the memory. “But I’m doing better. I won’t distract you again—“

He felt the hand on the left side of his face before he spoke. It was Minato’s. It cupped his cheeks, warmth spreading across his skin. Minato looked at him, his expression unreadable as always, his eyes filled with lackluster. “You’re hurt again.”

Akihiko tried to speak, but his throat felt heavy. _If I opened my mouth, my cheeks would spread open and it won’t fit inside Minato’s hand I don’t want to speak I don’t want his hand to go away_

Minato’s hand fell. “I’ll tell Yukari to heal you.” _Yukari. _She and Junpei were out of his vision. He didn’t realize it. In the distance, he could hear them cheer. They must have fought something and won. “I’ll go there, senpai. Stay here. I’ll call off tonight’s exploration.”

Akihiko nodded and stood. He pulled out the gloves from his left hand and felt his own face. It did hurt—fuck, it stung like hell. He wanted some salve _or Minato’s hand on it again_ and rest.

“Akihiko,” Mitsuru called into his comm. He forgot she could hear all of them.

“I—Minato—“

“I get it.” Mitsuru said, going quiet. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her smile widen.


End file.
